To Celebrate
by Godricgal
Summary: Caught up in the ceremony of Ted and Andromeda's 25th wedding anniversary, Remus and Tonks discuss plans for their own, fast approaching, anniversary celebrations.


_**Author's Notes: This fic is dedicated to my dear friend Gilpin(25) for the occasion of her birthday.**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

**To Celebrate**

The room is a sea of people in their Halloween best, elegantly-robed wizards standing with their richly attired wives, making polite conversation over goblets of the finest elf-made wine middleclass money can buy.

Rarely does Remus feel like he can step up to the mark where Tonks is concerned, but oddly, here, at her parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party, he feels more than up to playing the gentleman. This is partly because his parents schooled him, largely unnecessarily, in the particulars of the niceties of such occasions, and partly because Tonks herself feels out of her element and in such moments, it is for him to square his shoulders and bear her gracefully through her discomfort.

"They're all judging me," she says, sideways and under her breath, to him.

It had surprised Remus, the first time she'd talked of that particular insecurity, during a time when their relationship was still young, when he'd still thought her unphased by all that passed her by. He knew better now, and loved her all the more for it -- for caring, for being humble enough, as one in possession of formidable talent and a cracking sense of humour, to not succumb to the arrogance that so many others would.

He also knows better than to attempt to convince her otherwise.

"You only need to fit into your life, Dora," he says.

She smiles up at him gratefully. "I know."

Having spent much of his life not fitting in, Remus knew that better than most. It had only been on Tonks' arrival to his life that the pieces began to slot into place, and even if not everything was perfect, he felt his place at Tonks' side keenly enough to know that life had dealt him a winning hand.

"Remember what we talked about," he says.

Her fingers, which are curled in the crook of his arm, tighten for a moment and then release in private communication: _I remember_.

He isn't Remus Lupin at this party, he is John Broome, a pseudonym he uses for Order work when his own is too notorious. He is as strong as his own true character in it, the man Tonks knows him to be and helps him live up to. At this party there is no prejudice by which others can tear him down and no insecurity into which he can shrink; he can hold his head up high, stand tall and proud, and he tells her so, inclining his head to whisper in her ear.

As he draws back, she turns her face up towards him and the noise of the room fades away while her expression draws him in. He's not much of one for public displays of affection, neither of them are, but he cannot resist leaning in to let his lips brush against her temple.

As the rest of the world twists back into focus, Remus realises that all heads are turned in the direction of the patio doors at the far end of the room. Ted Tonks is standing in front of them, a glass of champagne held high and a wide grin on his face.

"I'm not a great one for speeches," he says with a glance towards his wife, who stands beside him, resplendent in emerald robes and bejewelled with what Remus suspects is twenty-five years' worth of well-chosen anniversary gifts. "But I would like to thank you all for joining 'Dromeda and me to celebrate our silver wedding anniversary; and I would like to thank my wife, who is as beautiful to me as the day we--"

"Gag me," Tonks whispers in Remus' ear. "Promise me we'll never have trumped up parties or silly speeches for our anniversaries. I can think of much better things to do to celebrate and none of them involve guests."

It's not as though they've never talked about it -- the future, but it takes Remus' breath away to hear her talk about it with such confidence; and in spite of the flippancy of her words, he knows, when he meets her eyes that she is as thrilled by it as him, to speak of this future with such casual certainty.

"Only a month or so until our one year anniversary," he says, softly, close to her ear as they turn back to Tonks' father to give the impression of their attention.

"It's gone so quickly, hasn't it?" she asks.

"Seems like. Though it's rather difficult to remember what life was like before. What on earth I filled my days with, if not thoughts of you."

"Or actually me." She casts him an impish glance sideways.

"Indeed," he says, feeling his features morph into the expression that had become familiar to him when she hinted at intimate things.

"We could have a picnic in the park, feed the ducks--"

"And feed each other."

"--And our beloved Nymphadora," Ted Tonks says, quickly drawing Remus' attention away from the subject of his words.

"Oh, ground, swallow me up," Tonks mutters under her breath at his side, but throwing back her shoulders to stand tall and proud beside him as she turned on a wide, but uncertain smile.

"...Who we hope to see safely buckled before too long!" Ted Tonks continues, clearly in full speech-making stride. "To Nymphadora and John!" he bellows, his cheeks flushed from the champagne he's been toasting profusely and his eyes glowing with what Remus can only describe as pride.

For Remus' part, he cannot help but share in Ted's emotion, and Tonks fist squeezing tightly around his arm communicates that she shares it, too. There is a deep and moving sense of belonging that clutches at Remus heart as his eyes meet Ted's across the room and Ted, almost imperceptibly tilts his champagne glass toward Remus in a gesture that is both welcoming and approving.

******

"I can't believe Dad drew attention to us like that," Tonks says, later that night as they're getting ready for bed, tired but happy at the end of the day. "He knows I hate it."

Slipping into bed, wearing only his pyjama bottoms, Remus says, "For my part, I'm rather glad that he did -- much better than that alternative."

"What do you mean?" She is standing in front of the mirror, inspecting her hair, and wearing a set of pyjamas which do so little for modesty that Remus often wonders what is the point of them, which is not to say that he doesn't enjoy looking as he wonders.

"Acceptance," he replies simply, lifting duvet on her side of the bed in encouragement. "It means he accepts us; and that, my love," he says, as he lets the duvet fall across her body and pulls her into him, "is all the encouragement I need to have a little private chat with him tomorrow."

Rather than relaxing into his arms as he expected her to, she sits bolt upright. "You mean, you..."

"I have said enough," he replies, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back to him; she resists, wriggling in his arms which only hold her more tightly against him. She opens her mouth to speak but before words can form, Remus says, "And so have you."

He kisses her instead, and her resistance doesn't last for long. She sighs into his mouth as she yields. "When we have our anniversary, this is what I want to do all day long," she whispers.

"What, no ducks?" He stretched out over her, savouring the familiar feel of her soft curves beneath him, the sight of her already-tousled hair, bright and vibrant and clashing against the dark burgundy of the pillowcase.

"Just you," she replies, her dark eyes sparkling with breathtaking sincerity.

Remus lets his fingers follow a deliberately slow path up her arm, watching her intently for the little hitches of breath he so enjoys being able to stir from her. "I could make a speech if you like."

"I thought you said we'd done enough talking." Her tone is an appealing mix of amusement and impatience.

"How lucky I am to have you to remind me of these things," Remus says, drawing out the moment just a little bit longer before impatience overwhelms him and, resolving to follow his own instruction, he kisses her, wraps his arms around her and begins a wordless, if not entirely silent, early start to their anniversary celebrations.

Which is just as well, because there is so much to celebrate.

_**The End**_


End file.
